Author's Note. Lately, I've been reading more carbon-copy interpretations of Rick's sister than I can handle. While I did admittedly make my peace with the rewrite with Tramps and Thieves, I've decided I want to address this plot device head-on. Want to know what would REALLY happen if Rick's sister was along for the ride? Here's a hint - everything's about to change.

Disclaimer. Not mine. The Hattie is, and wouldn't I be grateful if SOMEBODY took the opportunity to try and write her, or a Rick's sister character more like her.

Enchantress

PROLOGUE

Cairo - 1924

All her life, Hattie O'Connell had had one very obvious, very overbearing problem.

At nearly twenty-three years old - by anyone's definition, her prime time - she sat poised on the edge of the barstool like a ripe, juicy pear, just waiting to be plucked off and indugled in. She sat there knowing full well of it, too, with her shapely legs crossed and dangling tantalizingly below her skirt that the flappers had so generously shortened. She leaned in just so slightly, and coudn't help a maliciously pretty little smirk every time her mouse tried to take a not-so-obvious peak down her blouse.

"And that's when I knew I had to come to Egypt, because everyone knows any treasure worth digging for is here, and this is where he has to be," she was saying. She knew he wasn't listening. And she didn't mind, either.

He muttered a distracted, "Um-hmm," and kept chancing a look at her cleavage. By Hattie's standards, everything was going spectacularly well.

"You know they claim that entire garrison was killed, but I don't believe it for a second. My brother, Rick - he's stronger than that, and much smarter. I know he made it out alive. And I didn't come all this way just for some dull old desk clerk to tell me he was killed."

She picked up her drink and took a sip.

"Which isn't to say I think it's impossible that he was killed. I'm only saying, if he was killed, I want to hear it from someone who was there - from someone who saw it. Not some desk clerk. Not somebody who was just too lazy to go out looking for him, and just stamped 'dead' on his papers. I'm not about to take that answer from them. I didn't spend my measely little inheritance coming all this way not to find my brother, dead or alive. That's all I'm saying."

Hattie glanced at her mouse again. He was a real mouse, too. Squeaky voice and twitching little nose and all. She liked mice.

"Mr. Gabor?"

He startled when she said his name, and gave her the stupidest grin when he saw she was looking right at him. "Please, my dear. Call me Beni."

She had this one in the bag.

"Now that's very sweet of you, Beni," she purred. The way he looked at her said he'd kill his grandmother if she asked him to. "But now I'm to the point in my boring little tale where I need your help. You see, there's this rumor flying around that you also survived that attack on those awful old ruins. You must be awfully brave and strong to survive such an ordeal."

God, how did she keep a straight face when she said this shit?

"Now won't you tell me, Beni, do you remember my brother Rick from your garrison?"

Beni smiled and tore his eyes away from her to take a drink. He nodded slowly.

"Of course, of course. Rick and I were good friends."

Somewhere beneath Hattie's pretty little facade, her heart lept. No matter how unsavory this fellow was - if he was a friend of Rick's, then he would most certainly know what happened to him.

She grabbed his hand happily. "Oh, Beni, you don't know what good news that is for me! Please, can you tell me - what happened to my brother during the attack?"

Beni startled all of the sudden, as if shaken out of a trance. His eyes got all wide and buggy, and it made her nervous. He took several quick little sips of his drink before finally meeting her eyes again.

"Oh," he kind of whined out, "Oh, my dear ... I'm so sorry. But Rick O'Connell is dead."

The news hit Hattie like a kick in the gut. She just stared at him, trying desperately to catch her breath. Rick ... dead? No. No! It couldn't be. Not Rick. Not ... Rick ...

Beni reached over to touch her shoulder, but she quickly swatted it away. How dare he? How dare this little mouse try to put a hand on her - try to comfort her when he'd just told her ... Rick ...

"My dear - "

He tried again, but Hattie couldn't keep up her little show anymore. She nearly fell in her haste to get off of that barstool. She could barely hear him protesting, and she might have tried to excuse herself. Everything around her was numb. All she could feel and hear was the rapid, terrible throbbing of her heart, caught somewhere in her throat. Rick ... dead? The words kept pounding inside of her like her heart. Her eyes stung, blurring the dirty bar into a mess of ugly people and ugly promises.

She ran out into the cold desert night and took a breath of the sharp air. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt real, except the grimy wall of the bar when she leaned into it for some feeling of comfort. Rick ... dead?

How could he be, with a stupid little mouse like Beni Gabor alive and breathing? What kind of God lets a rodent live and a man like her brother die?

Gasps were building up in her throat, choking her until she finally let out a long, terrified sob. Without even really knowing what she was doing, she thrust her hand into the pocket in her skirt and pulled out a creased, earmarked picture. She looked deep into the young, boyish face - the wide eyes. And then the tears came.

She couldn't stop herself. They kept falling and falling, and she never thought they'd stop. She heard footsteps going past her, felt the curious eyes. But she didn't care. All of her hopes had come crashing down on top of her, and she couldn't handle the weight of them anymore. She was so far from everything she'd ever known - and so alone, so very, very alone. Her parents were gone. Her brother was gone. Her money was gone. And she was lost in a strange world where she only had her tears.

When she finally had the strength to glance away from the face in the photograph, she saw him. She didn't know how long he'd be standing there, or if he was even real.

He looked like a ghost in the pallid lamplight, and a terrifying one at that. He was dressed in the night, and Hattie didn't know what to do.

He walked over to her, and held out his hand. She tried to gain control of her sobs, but it was all she could do to just heave little gasps. She didn't know why, but she held out the photograph.

The man in black took it curiously and held it up to the light. She saw something like surprise pass over his face, and he handed the picture back to her.

"This man is alive," he said. Hattie's brow furrowed at the picture in her hand. When she looked to ask how he knew that, the man was gone.

Hattie took a deep breath and stared at the picture a second longer before slipping it carefully back into her pocket. She didn't know what that man was, or where he had come from - or why he was even in this part of town. She wasn't even convinced that he was a real person ... he might have just been a figment of her own anxious mind. But his words quieted everything within her, and filled her heart with hope again.

This man is alive.